


Chance of a Ghost

by cuddlebros



Category: Free!
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Ghosts, Makoto is not phased by much at this point, Sad-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlebros/pseuds/cuddlebros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto moves into a new apartment, only to find that he's not the only inhabitant. Maybe he doesn't have to worry so much about making new friends after all.<br/>'He's sure that finding out you have a paranormal being in your home is meant to go very differently than this.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance of a Ghost

**_'He's sure that finding out you have a paranormal being in your home is meant to go very differently than this.'_ **

 

    You see, when Makoto first moves into the apartment not a ten minute walk from his workplace, he's over the moon. It's a walk decent enough to act as a cool down after a long day of training, but not overly long so as to worry him at night. The convenience store is on the way, neon lights always acting like a modern day lighthouse, drawing in customers with its appeal. There is nothing bad about this apartment.

    Well, almost nothing.

 

    ----

 

    He first notices it when he's trying to fold one of his bed sheets. It's the first time he's had to wash them on his own, without the twins or his mum around to help, and he finds that regardless of his large arm span, he just can't fold the sheet like he wants to. The other end is just too far away. That is, until the opposite corners of the sheet start levitating, crumpling slightly where human hands would be if they were there, and slowly move towards the corners he holds in his own hands.

    He's too shocked to do anything but continue with his washing, but he makes sure to make a mental note that maybe, possibly, he might have a ghost.

    Or maybe, possibly, being around too much chlorine was finally getting to him.

 

    ----

 

    The next time, it’s the first truly hot day of summer. The pool isn’t yet being kept cool, so the heat that builds up in the centre is almost unbearable for Makoto while he’s not in the water. He takes the trip back home slowly, enjoying the breeze he couldn’t enjoy while inside, while relishing the fact that the suns warmth envelopes him like a dear friend. He misses the scent of salt in the air, he finds, the scent of the sea that tended to mark all his summer days.

    When he enters his apartment complex, he’s blasted by hot air. He hadn’t even considered that the building would build up heat throughout the day, and he has to stifle a groan as he makes his way up the stairs. Everything feels claggy and clammy by the time he reaches his door, and he’s expecting the heat to be unbearable, preparing to rush around to open as many windows as possible before turning on the AC.

    He’s not prepared to be met with a blast of cool air as he opens his door, nor the hum of the air conditioning unit. When he looks for the remote, he finds it sitting on the table top. It’s dusty from lack of use, but the buttons used to turn the machine on have no traces of dust.

    He um’s and ah’s a bit, but settles with smiling and giving his ghostly buddy a “thank you” out loud. He feels a little foolish about it, but he feels a sense of satisfaction roll over him. It’s not his own.

 

    ----

 

    The third time, it isn’t even him who is most affected. Rin has come over for a visit and Makoto is the only one of them with free couch space. He insists that Rin takes the bed, and his stubborn kindness somehow one up’s Rin’s stubborn refusal, meaning that for at least one night, Makoto isn’t in his own bed.

    His ghost doesn’t seem to like this.

    He wakes up in the middle of the night, snug as can be on his sofa, snuggled contently into his duvet. He realises a little while after he wakes up that he had gone to sleep with a blanket, and had left the duvet for Rin. He gets up in a scramble, only to find that Rin is indeed asleep, shivering, totally uncovered apart from his pyjamas of a tank top and sweats, and sighs. He drags the duvet back to place over him, finds the blanket folded back in the cupboard he had taken it from earlier that evening and makes sure to speak to his guest.

    “Please leave him be, I’m plenty warm with the blanket. Thank you for looking out for me, though,” he whispers into the room, before going back to his space on the sofa.

    He feels his ghostly friend tuck the blanket tighter around his shoulders and smiles into his sleep.

    The next morning he wakes up to the smell of delicious, fully cooked breakfast, and pads towards the kitchen to thank Rin for cooking. He’s only half surprised when Rin looks at him like he’s insane and says that he “didn’t cook this, are you crazy?”

    “Well if you didn’t cook it, and I didn’t cook it, then who the hell cooked it?”

    “Oh, yeah, that must’ve been my ghost!”

    Rin looks at him like he’s lost his _freaking_ mind. Again.

 

    ----

 

    It becomes something he lives with. The ghost doesn’t bother him, they cohabit pretty peacefully. He learns that it doesn’t like visitors until the third or fourth time they’ve been over, it doesn’t approve of anyone who is even slightly rude to Makoto, and it seems to have a sense of just whenever he’s having an awful day. Maybe, he muses, he’s grown a little too attached to his unusual flatmate.

    The only time he’d felt lonely since he’d moved in is when he asks, somewhat apprehensively, what happened to cause the gentle ghost’s demise. He doesn’t get a reply, and he feels that he’s truly alone for the first time in months. It sucks, and he can barely sleep at all that night. He’s off kilter all day from lack of sleep, and he’s truly miserable by the time he reaches home. But when he gets in, he feels another presence, and he smiles softly at their return.

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful,” he apologises to the seemingly empty room.

    He finds a newspaper clipping on his table though, detailing the tragic murder of a young person, a well-respected, trusted and kindly member of the community. It’s dated around 20 years back, but the person had only been around his age at the time. He finds himself overwhelmed by sadness, and this time it’s his own. He’s crying before he knows it, and he feels the vague, cold presence of a ghostly arm on his shoulder, an attempt at comfort.

    “I feel like I know you, you know? And it’s, it’s so awful how you died and I just - I wish I could speak to you properly, face to face, get to know you. It’s so stupid. My only real new friend is a ghost, but I - I wouldn’t have it any other way, really.”

    He goes to sleep still tearful, but he wakes up to a note written in neat handwriting that he doesn’t recognise at all. His smile doesn’t leave him all day, still on his face when he returns back to the apartment.

    His only new friend is a ghost, but really, he doesn’t _see_ any problems with that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i didnt write this story just for the pun at the end or the cute ghost cliche shhhh  
> again i need to stop writing things on a whim  
> okay fiesta out  
> shout at me if anything is glaringly bad about this please  
> peace


End file.
